


Nothing Lasts Forever

by elaine



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-11
Updated: 1999-04-11
Packaged: 2018-11-10 20:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: Ben finds out that nothing lasts forever. This story is a sequel toThings Change.





	Nothing Lasts Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

I whisper his name, and though I know from his breathing that he's still awake, he doesn't answer. I don't really need him to, I just need to say his name aloud. Still, it bothers me that he doesn't speak. This quietness is foreign to the man I love so much. He's changed in so many ways. He's lost the confidence which comes from knowing who he is, and what his place is in the world. He's lost the 'attitude' he was so proud of.

It doesn't make me love him any less. If anything, I love this wounded man more than ever, but I mourn, sometimes, for the man who went away, and who may never return. I wish, pointlessly, that I could have done something to prevent this, but I wasn't given the chance. Even so, when I came back from Canada and realised what had happened, my first instinct was to go after him. We were a team, unofficial of course, but a good team... we belonged together. Perhaps I should have followed my instincts. 

Well, that was impossible, for so many reasons. Chief among them that Ray had chosen to go alone, and I had no real option but to accede to the situation. He would never have forgiven me, I think, if I had done anything else. Our relationship may end just as surely, but at least this way, we can still remain friends. At least, that's the theory. I have my doubts.

Meanwhile, we come here whenever we can, and make love, and try to pretend that everything is all right. The reality is so far from being 'all right' that I would laugh about it, if I could. But laughter is too close to tears, and tears are a luxury I can't afford at the moment. There'll be time for that later, I suppose. So, for now, we love, and we hold each other, and we don't talk about anything important. Sometimes we hardly say a word to each other for hours at a time.

It's hard to believe that it's only three weeks since I got him back. I should be deliriously happy. Instead I'm miserable, and I'm making Ray miserable too. During those endless months when he was away, in constant danger, I used to console myself with thoughts of how it would be when he got back. I never imagined anything like this... Things change. That's what Ray says. Nothing lasts forever ...not even this. The harder I try to hold on, the faster it all seems to slip away. 

Once, I could spend whole evenings just holding him... not even making love, if we were tired... and it was all I needed. Not any longer. I need him with a hunger that is insatiable... that can only be satisfied, briefly, while we make love. When I hold him inside me, or when I bury myself in him, it feels like it will never end. But once it's over, the hunger returns. The feel of his body, its heat against mine, its weight in my arms, is not enough anymore. I'm trying to hold onto him in any way I can, knowing that I'll fail, eventually, but unable simply to let go.

It's so unfair, that Ray should have to be the one to end it. God knows, I've tried to bring myself to the sticking point, but I can't. Every time I try to talk about it, my throat simply closes up and the words refuse to come. We both know what's happening, even though we don't speak about it, and a part of me wants to end it now, before we start to hurt each other. But I can't. 

I'm not even sure what I feel anymore. I've felt so much in the last few weeks. More than I've felt in my whole life up till then, I sometimes think. While Ray was gone, I didn't dare feel the anger, the sense of betrayal at his leaving that way. If anything had happened to him, the guilt would have been too much to bear. Once he returned, once I'd got over the first incredible joy and relief, those feelings struck me savagely. I could hardly bear to speak to him for days, even while my body ached for him.

We survived that, and the reaction... the helpless clinging, the fear of being out of one another's sight for more than a few seconds. I thought I was going mad. I daresay Ray thought the same. Now... I just don't know... is this another phase? Something we simply have to work through? Will we ever regain some kind of equilibrium, or is our love damaged beyond repair? Perhaps, and I try to avoid the thought, this was inevitable from the beginning. Perhaps it was always going to end this way...

I know that, once, I thought I would spend the rest of my life with Ray. All through our separation, I held onto that dream... only to lose it when he returned. Seeing him again, seeing how the undercover assignment had changed him, made me realise that we can't hide our love away forever. That, sooner or later, the pressures of the world outside this room are going to make this love impossible. That Ray spent six months living a lie, only to find out when he returned, that he's still living a lie. We both are.

There's no point in wishing things were different, though sometimes I can't help it. The world is the way it is, and even though I've never been one to accept the status quo, there are some things that simply aren't going to change at any time in the near future. This is one of them. 

I could resign from the RCMP. Ray could leave the police force, and his family. We could live together in Canada, somewhere where people wouldn't bother us. We'd probably end up hating each other. Ray's family, his job, mean too much to him. For myself, I've tried to think about a life outside the RCMP, but my mind simply refuses to grasp the concept. So this is what it comes to. We grasp at every straw, and wait, knowing that one day, perhaps today, it will end.

Ray worries about me. I can see it in his face when he looks at me. I want to tell him I'll be all right. That I may not be strong enough to walk away, but that when he finally does, I'll survive. I don't know if it's true, but I'd like to say it to him. Something always stops me. Perhaps it's just the feeling that what little time we have left shouldn't be wasted with meaningless platitudes. 

I run my fingers over the wide, bony shoulders. He's lost weight, and three weeks of his mother's cooking hasn't been enough to replace it. He seems so fragile in my arms. His own arms and legs impossibly long, like a young colt's, are wrapped around me. I'm not the only one holding on as though my life depends on it. Slowly, I stroke the shorn hair. It's soft and only slightly prickly against my palm. I love the feel of it. I love the feel of his skin, and the tickle of his chest hair. Every time I see or touch his body, I fall in love with it all over again.

Despite the fact that we've already made love twice this afternoon, I want him again. I don't know if it's possible to achieve, but I want him. I whisper his name again, not even trying to hide the desire in my voice. He lifts his head from my chest and looks at me. Even the slight movement of his body as he adjusts his position and hunger gnaws at my vitals. I feel the caress of his cock against my thigh, the softness of it accentuated by the wiry brush of his pubic hair. I'm becoming hard, just from that tiny contact.

He won't refuse me, I know. He could no more do that than I could refuse him anything it was in my power to give him. We exchange a long silent look, and then he bends his head to kiss me. Oh, Ray... His tongue invades my mouth with unbelievable sweetness. 

I could give up anything for him at this moment. I love him beyond reason, beyond all sense. I belong to him as surely as he belongs to me. The power of this love terrifies and exhilarates me, and for a while, I'm almost senseless with the feel of his tongue against mine. His hands touch me in places and in ways I never knew existed before I met him. I'm soaring, but I force myself back, not wanting to forget a single touch, not even the tiniest memory, of Ray making love to me. Soon, memories will be all I have of him.

He's lick-kissing his way across my body and I encourage him with my moans, guiding his head until he finds my nipple and brushes his tongue back and forth across the tip. I shudder with pleasure and pull his body closer against mine. 

We move together as though there is just one body which we both share, it's almost impossible to feel the boundaries when we're like this. I have to remind myself that there are two of us. When I do, I remember that I need to touch him, as much as I need him to touch me. I roll him onto his back and pull away, so I can look at him. His tongue slides across his full lower lip and he swallows, his beautiful green eyes are huge. He looks so terribly vulnerable lying there, and my heart aches for him.

I move so that my body is above his, arching over him protectively, though what I'm protecting him from, I couldn't say. I want to spend the rest of my life investigating his body with all the thoroughness he, and it, deserve. Another impossible dream, but Ray seems to inspire these sorts of dreams in me... A touch on my cock brings me back to reality in the nicest possible way, and I glance down between our bodies to see his long, elegant fingers cradling my hardness gently.

I look up again and he's smiling at me. His fingers move a little and I gasp. Ray himself is still soft. Well, that's not surprising. When he first came back, he was so tired... the kind of soul deep weariness that doesn't go away easily, and nothing's been easy about his return. I move back to kneel between his legs and lower my head to kiss his belly. My hands caress the insides of his thigh, gently massage his balls, but still he doesn't stir. His cock lies nestled in the wiry curls like a dark rosebud, and I take it tenderly into my mouth.

My gentle sucking has no noticeable effect either, but it doesn't matter. More and more, I feel the urge to bury myself in him. To hide in his depths. Without words, Ray signals to me that he, too, wants this... I hesitate, not entirely sure that I'm not projecting my own desires onto him, but he reaches for the condoms and rolls one onto my cock. I've never felt anything like the way he can do this. He makes it a pleasure, not a chore, to do it. Then he lifts his legs, drawing them up against his chest, spreading wide for me.

All my senses reel at the combination of trust, vulnerability, and unbridled eroticism in this gesture. I freeze, my heart in my mouth, and fight back tears. In that one movement, he has demolished every barrier I've set up against fear, pain... loss... I can't let him see me cry. I blink furiously and lower my head, pretending that I'm concentrating on guiding myself into him. The truth is, I could do this blindfolded, which, as it turns out, is quite fortuitous.

By the time I've achieved my goal, I've managed to regain some semblance of control, though I doubt Ray has missed anything. I watch his face as I move in him and he smiles again, but with such incredible sadness that I am close to tears again. I can't take my eyes off him, and it seems... churlish... to hide my own pain now. I let him see it, and he responds with another heartwrenching smile. Then we put it aside, for the moment, and let ourselves feel the pleasure instead.

His face reflects everything, every sensation. He strokes his flaccid cock almost idly, unconcerned by its continued softness and I find the gesture incredibly arousing. When I brush against his prostate, his face becomes almost incandescent. At least I can give him this, no less than his gift to me. I've never felt so open. I ought to be terrified, but there's no room for that now. Something tells me that I will never have this again, and I'm determined to experience it to the full. I feel as though I never knew the meaning of love until now.

Usually, we try to make this last as long as possible. This time, however, it all seems irrelevant. What I'm feeling is so intense, it isn't possible to draw it out. At the last I drop forward against his shoulder and continue the slow deep thrusts, seeking a quiet, constrained release. When it comes, I feel as though my body's imploding.

*

I don't need to open my eyes to know that Ray has left. His absence from the bed... the total lack of any sense of his presence... I open my eyes anyway and look around the empty room. As I turn my head, I become aware that I'm still wearing his shirt. It moves against my skin with a sensual slither.

He can't have left without it. He can't...

I know he's been puzzled, and worried, by the way I keep wearing his shirts. I wasn't even sure, myself, why I did it, but now I know. If I was wearing his shirt, he couldn't leave. But now he has... The last time he left me a postcard. This time it's his shirt.

He's not coming back.


End file.
